


From Your Galaxy to Mine

by NeverAndAlways



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Mpreg, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Ronon, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9649880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverAndAlways/pseuds/NeverAndAlways
Summary: Started watching Stargate a couple months ago, and I've been wanting to write something like this ever since.....basically, I just wanted to write Ronon.We'll see how this goes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to be That Person, but this is my first time writing in this fandom, so comments are greatly appreciated!

Ronon Dex usually isn't big on displays of affection. Sure, he's a great cuddler, and he'll kiss you into next week given the chance--but that's if no one else is around.

Which makes this even weirder.

John is standing at a workstation in Ops, helping Rodney with a systems check. It's a quiet day; they're the only ones in the room. He glances back at the sound of the door. It's Ronon.

"Hey, you." he cracks a smile before going back to his work.

"John. Rodney." Ronon greets them both, but makes a beeline for John. John keeps his eyes on his work, but he can feel Ronon's presence behind him. The guy _looms_.

"What's up?" he asks absently.

"Just saying hi. Haven't seen you since this morning."

John cracks another smile. A year-and-a-half of dating Ronon, and he's still not used to how attentive the guy can be. Ronon goes quiet. Probably watching him work.

Then suddenly he presses a kiss to John's neck. Nice, but unexpected. Another kiss lands on his ear; Ronon steps closer until his chest is pressed against John's upper back. One big hand comes to rest lightly on his waist. Very unexpected. John tries to focus on the control panel.

"Alright Rodney, I think that does it for this section."

"'Kay. Gimme one sec to finish this up, then we'll go to the next one."

John works in silence for another minute or two. But amazingly enough, it's hard to concentrate when you've got six feet of affectionate Satedan practically standing on top of you. He gives in and turns around.

"Since when are you so cuddly?" he murmurs. Ronon smirks.

"What, is there a rule that says I can't say hi to you?"

"No, but you're not usually this...affectionate."

Rodney turns around from his own workstation, and raises his eyebrows at the sight of the couple. He clears his throat rather pointedly. "Should I, uh...should I leave you two alone?"

"I was just leaving." says Ronon, suddenly gruff. Then he looks back at John and drops his voice to just above a whisper. "When are you free? We need to talk."

"'Talk', huh?" John echoes with a smirk. "Something tells me you've got more on your mind than that."

Ronon shakes his head. "No. Just talking."

John frowns. Something about his tone is sending up a red flag, but he can't put his finger on it. "Well this should only take another hour or two. I'll come find you when I'm done."

"Alright." Ronon leans down for a proper kiss. Then, with a nod to Rodney, they part ways.

As soon as the door closes, Rodney turns to John.

"What was that about?"

John shakes his head. "No idea."

One thing's for sure: life in Atlantis keeps you on your toes.

•••

John finds Ronon tinkering around in the jumper bay. Ronon takes one look at him, puts down his tools, and leads him right back out of the bay.

He doesn't say a word until they get to their quarters.

"Have a seat." he gestures to the sofa. "I'll be right back."

John obeys. He's confused as hell. Times like these, he wishes Ronon weren't so difficult to read. Ronon goes to the other room; a moment later, he comes back with something in his hand. He drops the something on the coffee table and sits down in the armchair opposite.

Their eyes meet. Now what?

Ronon nods to the whatever-it-is. John picks it up. It's plastic, about the length of his hand, with a little screen in the--wait.

John looks up at his boyfriend. "Is this--Ronon, is this a pregnancy test?"

"Yep."

"...It's postive." John says lamely.

"Yep."

"You're--"

"I am."

"...Holy shit." John drags a hand over his eyes. He'd known Ronon was a carrier, male carriers are way more common among Satedans, but this--

"Jennifer did say there was a 40% chance." says Ronon thoughtfully. John doesn't answer. "...You okay, Sheppard?"

John looks up to find himself smiling. "Yeah, yeah, I'm...I am way better than okay." he laughs unsteadily. "Are--are you? I mean, are you okay with this?"

"If you are. We've talked about it in the past, but never seriously."

"Hey, I'm not the one having the kid. It's your decision, if you wanna go through with it."

Ronon smiles. As intimidating as the guy can be, his smile--when it's genuine--looks like everything right with the world.

"I do."

 

¤¤¤


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still learning about these characters, so some details here are improvised. Please feel free to tell me if I'm too far off.

"Ronon!"

Ronon pauses on the stairs and looks back. At the bottom is Rodney.

"Dr. McKay. What can I do for you?"

"You can slow down, for starters."

Ronon smirks and continues to climb--but does slow down just a bit. He hears Rodney hurry after him, muttering about inconsiderate giants. He does catch up, however, a few seconds after Ronon gets to the top. Ronon looks at him with mild amusement.

Rodney pauses to catch his breath--then has to catch up again when Ronon continues to stroll down the hall.

"I heard the news." he pants.

"Really? What news is that?"

"You, big guy. Congratulations!"

Ronon smiles. Inwardly, he's a little surprised: it's been a few weeks since he told John (who has, no doubt, told at least one other person). He's even starting to show. That's a bit on the slow side for the Atlantis gossip mill, if Rodney has just now heard of it.

"Thanks."

"You know what it is yet?"

"Yeah, it's a baby." Ronon can't resist a little jab. Teasing Rodney is one of the most fun things to do around here, as far as he's concerned. Rodney rolls his eyes.

"Thank you, smartass. I mean, is it a boy or a girl?"

"Won't know that for a couple more weeks."

"Oh."

A young lieutenant darts past, weighed down with a box of something. The pair steps out of their way.

"I'm surprised, actually," Rodney continues, "I mean, you of all people. Like, Teyla, that was its own situation, but I wouldn't have expected _you_ to get pregnant. And you and Colonel Sheppard have only been sharing quarters for what, two months? Three?"

"Three." says Ronon, with perhaps a little more gruffness than necessary. He's not sure he likes what's being implied here.

"I am happy for you, though. Really. Having a...a tiny Ronon running around the city. Or a tiny John. You must be excited."

They round a corner. Their stroll has taken them to some disused, dusty back corridor. Ronon keeps walking, like he knows exactly where he's headed.

"Yeah, I guess I am. Haven't had much time to really think about it." he muses. He glances at Rodney, another smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Do you even know where you're going right now, Doctor?"

Rodney looks around. Clearly he doesn't, but he's not about to let Ronon know that. "I, uh...well, where are you going?"

"Jumper bay."

"I'll walk you there." says Rodney airily, and motions for Ronon to lead the way. He nods and does just that--laughing to himself the whole time.

•••

"... _take your protein pills and put your helmet on_ _...ground control, something something, whatever_..."

Ronon half-sings, half-mutters as he emerges, shirtless, from the bathroom, followed by a few wisps of steam. His pajama pants are almost long enough to double as slippers; they pretty much hide his feet as he shuffles along. A towel perches heavy on his head. He tucks in a stray dreadlock.

"... _and I'm floating in a most peculiar way...and the stars look very different today..."_

Damn, can't get that tune out of his head. John's been introducing him to more Earth music and he's finally found an artist he likes, but the songs just stick in his brain. The towel starts to droop; he takes it off and starts to tousel his hair dry instead, turning the singing into muffled humming. By the time he drops it on the floor, his dreadlocks are going in all different directions at once, including over his face. He flicks them out of the way.

There's a drawer in his dresser that's rarely opened. It contains only a handful of items, things he brought with him when he first came to Atlantis. Reminders of home. Ronon pads across the room and opens the drawer. Slowly, he sifts through the items, until he finds what he's looking for: a silver necklace chain, badly in need of polishing. He lifts it up. Hung from the chain is a pendant of sorts: a polished, blood-red  _iyoric_ seed the size of a grape, attached by a little silver link. It still smells faintly like cloves. Ronon stares it down. He hasn't worn it in ages. Hasn't wanted to. He was never very superstitious, and not big on tradition, either, but now...

Well, better safe than sorry. Ronon moves his dreadlocks aside and opens the clasp. When he puts it around his neck, it rests neatly over his breastbone. He hooks the clasp into place, then looks in the mirror above the dresser.

It's a vanity mirror, sized so that you can't quite see all of yourself at once. One of those things that's just always been around, and you don't really know where it came from. He steps back and eyes his reflection. Shirtless, messy dreadlocks,  _iyoric_ pendant, scars...well, he definitely looks Satedan. His gaze wanders lower, to the swell behind his navel. Still not used to seeing that. He turns to look at it in profile and feels a rush of...something. Several feelings at once, only half of which he can even put into words. Mostly amazement: that's a baby in there. _His_ baby. Little Sheppard-Dex. Dex-Sheppard?

He rests one broad hand on the bump and murmurs a "Hey there, kiddo."

Then it dawns on him that he's chilly.  _Yes, Ronon, that'll happen if you walk around shirtless in Atlantis._ So he closes the dresser drawer, opens another, and pulls out a shirt. He's in the process of putting it on when he hears the door open.

"Hey, Chewie."

Only one person in the galaxy gets to call him that.

"Sheppard." he pulls the shirt down over his head, and there's John at the door, untying his boots. Ronon picks up his sword and his gun from their place at the end of the bed and tosses them onto the mattress, along with a small leather bag. "Did you find out what Woolsey wanted?"

"Yeah, just follow-up from that last meeting."

"Mm."

"And--" John pulls off his boots and drops them by the door "--I now have the rest of the afternoon off."

Ronon can't help smiling as he sits down on the bed. "Think you can tolerate me that long?" he teases.

"I dunno, it might be tough." John gives it right back. Ronon snickers. John ambles into the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes. He tosses it in the direction of the hamper, grabs his pajama shirt from the end of the bed, and pulls it on. Then he repeats the process with his pants, exchanging them for sweatpants.

He glances toward the bed, where Ronon has taken a cloth from the leather bag and is rubbing oil into the hilt of the sword. He does a double-take. "What's that?" he nods to the pendant.

Ronon puts down the sword and the cloth. He wipes his hand on his shirt and picks up the pendant. "It's an  _iyoric_ seed," he says, rolling it thoughtfully between his fingers, "sort of a...charm, I guess. Had it for years. Supposed to bring you good luck and protection."

"Hm." John scoots some of Ronon's things aside and flops down on the bed next to his boyfriend. "Didn't think you were all that into traditional stuff."

"I'm not." Ronon picks up the sword and the cloth again and goes back to work with such a vengeance, you'd think the sword had insulted him. But John knows him better than that. He sits up on his elbow.

"It's for the baby, isn't it."

Ronon slows, then stops.

"...Yeah." he shrugs. "Found it in the drawer. Figured it couldn't hurt."

Now it's John's turn to smile. That's a side of Ronon that doesn't come out very often. The worrier. He reaches out and grabs a corner of the polishing cloth, grabbing Ronon's attention as well. His boyfriend looks at him and arches one heavy eyebrow.

"You're gonna be an awesome parent, you know. You got nothing to worry about."

The smile Ronon gives him then is one he's pretty sure no one else has seen. It's not a big smile, or the brightest, but it's like a little crack in his tough-guy armor. It only lasts a moment or two before he turns his attention back to the sword. Both men lapse into silence for a while.

Eventually, Ronon puts down the cloth and takes a whetstone out of the bag instead. He presses it to the blade...and pauses.

"John?"

John drifts back from a doze. "Mmh?"

"Have you told anyone?"

John squints drowsily. "'Bout what?"

"Me. The baby."

"Oh. Uh...just Teyla. But only 'cause she asked directly. And Jennifer already knows..." he turns to look at Ronon. "Why?"

Ronon strokes the whetstone along the sword's blade. It makes an almost musical sound.

_Shingggg_

"Ran into McKay this morning. He congratulated me."

_Shingggg_

"Is that a bad thing?" asks John.

"No. I mean, the team's gonna find out one way or another, but..."

_Shingggg_

"I guess I wanted them to hear it from me."

John thinks on that a moment. "I guess I can understand that." he sits up, tenting his legs and resting his arms on top of them. "So when are you gonna tell 'em?"

_Shingggg_

"...I dunno. Probably when I start to actually look pregnant."

John has to suppress another smile at that. "Fair enough." he gently thwacks Ronon's knee. "Bet you five dollars Teyla will wanna throw you a baby shower at some point."

"A what?"

"Never mind. You'll see."

John and Ronon's voices drift out of their open bedroom window. Below, the ocean brushes the tower walls, and the city gleams in the distance. Atlantis can be a tough place to live. But right here and now, it feels just about perfect.

 

•••°°°••• 


	3. Chapter 3

Well, the team definitely found out. Thanks to Rodney's inability to keep a secret, Ronon was congratulated by everyone from Woolsey to Zelenka in the space of a week. None of them made a big deal out of it, thankfully, but still. It's the principal of the thing.

But that was then. Now, he's 22 weeks in and can't hide it anymore. Around the team, he doesn't mind it so much, but it's making other parts of his job a little awkward. Like their occasional (dreaded, necessary) rendezvous with Todd. You try sitting through a meeting with a hungry Wraith staring at you like you're the tastiest thing they've ever seen.

And the pregnancy itself...it's been tough. Ronon isn't used to having these restrictions imposed on him. He can't train, he can't do parkour, he's barely even allowed to run. Best he can do is jogging, and the 'exercises' Jennifer wants him to do. Something about preparing for the birth. But that's months away and besides, they aren't even interesting. He does them only when reminded.

She says he's a difficult patient. He agrees.

At least the baby seems content in all of this. It (or he, as the latest scans revealed) is healthy, and active as hell. John says it's a testament to his Sheppard DNA. On the bright side, the little guy seems to wear himself out during the day, so he's quiet most of the night. This part probably won't last long, though. So Ronon's taking every bit of sleep he can get.

-

_"Push, Ronon."_

_(Bright lights)_

_(Hard biobed)_

_(Cold)_

_He's in sickbay. Very pregnant; wearing one of those damn paper gowns. He's so tired. Pushing and pushing like it's the last thing he'll ever do, until--_

_"It's a boy!"_

_Beckett hands him a baby, already wrapped tight in a blanket. He takes it in his arms--_

_Suddenly it's not a baby at all. A fish stares up at him. Then a lizard. He looks up at Beckett, who beams like there's nothing wrong. He looks back at the baby._

_It's a Wraith._

_On reflex, he cries out and drops it--_

 

And then he's awake.

Under the blankets in his own bed. Dimly lit by the glow of a control panel in the corner. And--his hand darts to his midsection--still pregnant. He lets out a slow breath and tries to will his heart to stop pounding. Jennifer prepared him for a lot of things about this pregnancy, but she never mentioned the _dreams_.

Ronon rolls over. He doesn't want to sleep any more, but he can at least have some time with John...

...Who isn't even there. His space on the mattress is empty and cold. Ronon listens a moment; he hears footsteps.

He climbs out of bed and shuffles out of the bedroom. Just as he suspected, John is in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee (remembering how to be alive for the day, he calls it. Colonel Sheppard may be an early riser, but it takes him awhile to be fully conscious). He looks up at the sound of Ronon's footsteps, and flashes him a groggy smile and a "morning, handsome". Then it dawns on him, halfway through a sip of coffee, that this isn't standard procedure. He frowns. "What are you doing up?" his voice is still rusty.

"Couldn't sleep." Ronon shrugs.

"Mm. More weird dreams?"

"Yeah."

John looks at him for a moment. "Wanna talk about it?" Ronon really isn't one for 'talking it out', but it's worth a try.

"No."

Or not.

John turns around to put the coffee pot back in the machine. Ronon takes advantage of this and moves in for a cuddle--something that takes a bit more strategy these days, but damned if that stops him from trying. After a few seconds of maneuvering, he ends up more or less hugging John from behind. John turns around (after putting down his coffee cup) and makes it a proper cuddle, looping his arms around Ronon and throwing in a kiss for good measure.

"Pretty nice way to start the day, though," he murmurs.

"Mm." Ronon agrees. "Except for the early part...what time is it, anyway?"

"'Bout 0500."

Ronon makes a noise of disgust. "Why do you do this to yourself?"

"Boot camp. Don't think I'll ever break the habit."

He snorts in amusement. Then he brings their foreheads together, and they're silent for a minute. Enjoying each other's presence. Listening to the city as it wakes up.

"How's the little athlete this morning?" John asks quietly.

"Sleeping, for once."

"Well, at least one of us has some sense.."

"You could just go back to bed, y'know."

"So could you." John smirks. Then he shrugs. "I'm on duty soon anyway."

"Mm." Ronon pulls away, but not before snagging another kiss. He walks away to a cupboard and starts rummaging around for some breakfast. His search turns up an apple and a power bar, which he leans against the counter to eat. "Y'know, I still can't believe we're doing this." he muses around a bite of apple.

John takes a sip of coffee. "What, the baby?"

"Yeah."

"You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

"What? No. I just..." Ronon pauses, and looks contemplatively at the apple in his hand. "It's weird. Didn't think I'd ever do this."

"Yeah, well. I never thought I'd be living in a floating city, either, but here I am." John's expression softens into a half-smile. "We're gonna be fine, Ronon. You know that."

Ronon eyes his boyfriend. He'd like to believe that, but he knows better. There's the Wraith, for starters...hell, just their jobs are dangerous enough. But he doesn't say any of that. He just takes another bite of apple, one hand on his belly, and watches as the coffee kicks in and John bustles around the apartment. Downtime like this is already scarce, and it'll become even more so in a few months. They'd better enjoy it while they can.

¤¤¤


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so. Originally, this was going to be an actual, full-length fic, but I'm realizing that what I really wanted to do with it was just write a birth fic. So I've hit fast-forward a little. I hope you guys don't mind; I promise I'll make an actual fic out of it soon. Pinky-promise, even. But for now--hope you enjoy! There's at least one more chapter to go.

He's meditating with Teyla when he first feels it. A tightening across his midsection, hard and sudden enough to startle him and bring him crashing back to reality. Before Teyla can catch on, Ronon gives himself a mental shake and settles back into that comfortable grayish calm. It was probably nothing. Just the baby landing on a nerve.

But then it happens again. Twice. And it's so strong that he finds himself biting his lip to keep from making noise.

Ronon opens his eyes. He looks down. His belly takes up a lot of his lap now, but it doesn't look any different...39 weeks, though. Keller said it could happen any minute. Looks like she was right. He shifts out of his cross-legged stance into a more comfortable one, and quietly says Teyla's name. Her eyes open.

"Yes?"

"I gotta go. Could you help me up?"

Teyla gets to her feet and helps him do the same. "Are you having difficulty concentrating?"

"A little." he reaches back and unties his dreadlocks, then shakes his head; they fall around his face and shoulders. "Actually, uh...I think I'm having contractions."

Teyla arches her eyebrows, but seems only mildly surprised. He's starting to think nothing can really surprise her. "I see. Do you need to go to sickbay?"

"No." he replies, a little too quickly. "No, I just--I think I'd better go." suddenly the only place he wants to be is in his quarters, where it's quiet and less agoraphobic. And he needs John. It's like a physical force pulling on him. He says a quick goodbye to Teyla and leaves, barely waving his hand over the door controls in his hurry.

-

Ronon navigates the city's long and complex corridors by memory. Take a left here, a right there, go past the fountain. John. Find John. It's early afternoon; that would put him in North pier, wouldn't it?

He has to stop a couple of times for contractions along the way. One of them takes him completely by surprise and leaves him kneeling on the floor, (thankfully) half-hidden behind a column.

"Ronon?"

Or so he thought.

Ronon opens his eyes. Standing above him is, of course, the last person he wanted to see right now: Dr. McKay. Rodney has a tablet under one arm, a clipboard in his hand, and a look of bemusement on his face.

"That's pretty much the least sanitary place you could be right now," he says with his strange mix of petulance and matter-of-fact-ness, "do you even know how many feet have-- wait, what are you doing, anyway? You didn't fall, did you?"

"No, I didn't fall." Ronon grumbles, using the column to pull himself back to his feet. Rodney is difficult on a good day. "I'm in labor." he doesn't even know if that's technically true yet, but he can never resist taking a jab at Rodney. And it works: McKay pales visibly.

"...You're-- you mean to tell me you're having a baby right now?" there's a clear note of distress in his voice.

"Well, not right this instant--"

"Jesus tap dancing Christ, what are you doing _here_ , sickbay is _that way_!" Rodney gestures with his clipboard, looking downright alarmed.

"I don't need to go to sickbay, I need to find John. So unless you know where he is, just leave me alone."

"He's in Ops," says Rodney, as though it's obvious. "I'll take you there--"

"I know where it is." Ronon growls.

"Well yeah, but if something happened to you, and John knew that I knew you were in labor and didn't do anything, he'd kill me. At least let me walk you there."

Ronon rolls his eyes and concedes, and together they continue on their way.

\--

There's a handful of people in the Gateroom when they arrive: techs buzzing around, a few people in the control room, and Zelenka at his workstation. Rodney climbs the stairs and calls to him. The physicist makes a distracted "hmm" in response, and doesn't look up.

"Where's Colonel Shepperd?" Rodney asks him.

"Woolsey's office," Zelenka jerks his head in that direction, "he'll be right back. You forget something?"

"No, of course not."

Zelenka glances up from his screen long enough to throw a deadpan glance at Rodney. Then he sees Ronon.

"Hello, Ronon."

"Hey." Ronon climbs the stairs after Rodney. It takes some doing. Everything does, now; standing up, sitting down, walking.

"Didn't expect to see you here."

Before Ronon can answer, who should come across the walkway but Colonel Shepperd himself. Rodney gets his attention and points to Ronon. Ronon waves. He wanted to say something, and in fact he would have done, had his body not chosen that moment to make his point for him. He notices the muscles tightening just a second too late, then the contraction's right on top of him and he has to lean on the workstation to stay upright. They seem to pack more of a punch when he's standing.

Someone's speaking to him. Can't tell who, or what they're saying. "'M fine, just gimme a sec," he mutters to whoever it is.

"No you aren't."

Now that voice he recognizes. Ronon looks up. John is standing in front of him, wearing that heavy look of concern he's only seen a couple of times.

"Was that what I think it was?" John asks solemnly.

"That depends. What do you think it was?" can't help cracking a joke, even now.

"A contraction."

Now Ronon half-smiles. "Yeah."

John swears under his breath. "We gotta get you to sickbay."

" **No**." if he hears that word from one more person...

"I'm not asking." for a moment, John's voice has that sharp edge of command to it. Then it softens. "We should at least tell Dr. Keller, and let her take a look at you. Then we can go back to the apartment."

Ronon sighs, releasing the last of the tension from the contraction. "...Fine."

It's John's turn to crack a smile, albeit a wry one. Then, with a thank-you to Rodney and goodbye to Zelenka, he and Ronon descend the stairs and make their slow way out of the room.

¤¤¤


	5. Chapter 5

Half an hour in sickbay later (thirty minutes that could've been much better spent, if you ask Ronon), Dr. Keller confirms that he is, in fact, in labor. Four centimeters and counting. She gives them some instructions on what to do next, says she'll check up on them in a few hours, and sends them on their way.

So now they're back in their quarters. As soon as they arrived, Ronon went out onto the balcony, asked not to be disturbed, and shut the door behind him. John's trying to respect that, but Ronon's been out there for thirty minutes now. He's curious.

John goes to the door. The everpresent ocean breeze hits him in the face when he opens it.

"Ronon...?"

"What."

John looks around. Ronon is seated just to the right of the door, with his eyes closed and one hand cradling his belly. In his other hand, he holds his  _iyoric_ pendant like a rosary, rolling it back and forth between his fingers. The breeze tugs on his shirt.

"You okay?"

"You really have to ask?"

"Just checking." John soothes. He closes the door and sits down next to Ronon. "What'cha doin'?"

Ronon opens his eyes, but doesn't look at John. "Meditating," he says at length. Then, quieter, "Praying."

"What for?"

"Me an' the baby. Good luck and a safe birth."

"Why not ask for an easy one, while you're at it? Save yourself the trouble."

"There's no such thing."

John's a little taken aback by this, but he doesn't pursue it. He looks out over the ocean, where a distant jumper is doing a training flight.

"God, I wish I could make this better for you." his voice is unexpectedly tight. "Or just  _easier_." he glances back at Ronon, who smiles that rare smile of his.

Still supporting his belly with one hand, Ronon leans back on the wall and loosely tents his legs. "It's my fight, Shepperd. You gotta let me do this my own way."

"Yeah, I know..." John trails off. In the distance, the jumper does an immelmann turn and heads back toward the city. "I can't believe we're gonna be dads." he muses. He doesn't realize he said it aloud, until he hears Ronon laugh to himself. "What?"

"You'll be a dad."

This gives him pause. He looks at Ronon. "And you won't?"

"Technically, I'll be a mother." John just blinks in confusion at this, so Ronon sighs and continues, "on Sateda, the person who bears the child is the mother, regardless of gender. We have, like, four different words for it, but 'mother' is the closest word in your language."

"So...should I be using different pronouns for you?"

"Nah. It's just a technicality. I'll still be 'dad'; people would ask too many questions." Ronon tilts his head back and shuts his eyes.

"Hm." John glances at Ronon, who's gone quiet. He's very still; a slight tic in his jaw is the only indication he's in any pain. "'Nother one?" John asks. His boyfriend gives a short nod. John's gaze flicks down to Ronon's belly--he swears he can almost see the contraction working its way across--then back up. Ronon's face creases with discomfort as the contraction kicks up a notch, and his breathing quickens. He lets out a pained grunt.

John reaches out to him. "Hey, c'mon, don't fight it. You're gonna wear yourself out." Ronon allows John to take his hand and lace their fingers together. It's an anchor, a point of connection that keeps him grounded as he wades through the remainder of the contraction.

"I can't  _not_ fight." he croaks when he's got his breath back.

"I know, but that's only gonna make this harder. Just try." John gives Ronon's hand a squeeze and says, quieter, "what can I do?"

"You're doing it."

John's eyes soften. "Next question, what do  _you_ want to do? Walk around, take a bath, try to sleep for a while?"

"Later. Right now I just wanna stay out here."

Now John just nods. "Fine by me. Long as I can stay out here with you." he scoots around so he's shoulder-to-shoulder with his boyfriend, and stares out at the ocean.

This time, it's Ronon who reaches for John. His fingers close around John's hand and squeeze. It's the only outward sign of nervousness he's shown.

"We're havin' a baby." he says it quietly, almost like a secret. Or a realization. John grins.

"Yeah, we are."

\--

Ronon is sitting on a borrowed kitchen chair in the main room. He's shirtless (save for the pendant), sitting backwards with his arms on the back of the chair and his legs splayed out on either side. There's a cushion on his belly, and another under his folded arms. Music plays in the background, soft enough to tune out. He's just gotten settled; when a new contraction begins, the sound he muffles in his pillow is equal parts aggravation and pain.

John is at his side in a moment. He perches on the arm of the sofa and, with one hand, massages the slope of Ronon's lower back, trying to loosen some of the knots there. His other hand scoots aside a wandering dreadlock. Ronon catches his hand and holds it, and squeezes.

John counts almost 50 seconds before the contraction is over. Ronon's panting like he just ran a mile. His head lolls sideways to rest on his elbow.

"Doing well, Ronon." says Jennifer in the background. She's been here about forty minutes, long enough for a few rounds of contractions. Right now she's laying out her supplies. Ronon had planned to deliver here in the main room, where there's the most space, and they want to set everything up while there's still time.

Ronon opens one eye. "Glad you think so," he grumbles. "how long did you say I have?"

"You're between six and seven centimeters, so...I'd give it several more hours at least."

Ronon groans low in his throat and buries his face in the pillow. Beside him, John feels his heart clench up a bit at the thought of his boyfriend going through even more of this. His instincts are already going crazy. In the past, seeing someone in pain like this has always meant being in combat, or close to it. He's nervous as hell. And yet, when he thinks about what the end result of all this is going to be, his heart just about leaps out of his chest. And he knows that Ronon feels the same. He lights a kiss over the tattoo on his boyfriend's neck. Ronon lifts his head from the pillow with a small, weary smile.

"Love you." John whispers. It seemed like the thing to say. Ronon puts his head back down.

"You too, Shepperd."

He lets out a sigh and lapses into silence. In the background,  _Seven Seas of Rhye_ begins to play. John listens and wonders idly why he thought it was so profound as a teenager. Jennifer sits down and starts skimming through some files she brought along. The atmosphere in the room becomes a little less tense; after a few minutes, Ronon's even comfortable enough to sit up and stretch and roll his shoulders.

Then it's straight back to work with another contraction. Ronon hisses one long Satedan expletive into his pillow. John coaches him through it as best he can. He's never been too good at the whole reassurance thing, and Ronon retreats so deep inside himself when he's hurting. It's hard to tell how much he's even hearing.

"Ronon?" Jennifer moves in when the contraction has finally passed. He grunts acknowledgement. "You're gonna hate me for this, but I think we need to get you up and walking around. There doesn't seem to be any progress happening." this time, Ronon growls. "I know, I'm sorry, but I don't want you to stall. Need to make some headway."

Somehow, they manage to coax a reluctant Ronon up out of his chair. His face creases with discomfort when he sits up; John hears a sharp intake of breath.

"Take a second, there's no rush." John holds him steady until he gets his bearings. When he seems ready, they help him to his feet, where he stands unsteadily. "Alright. Now, where to?"

Ronon doesn't answer. He sets off, shuffling doggedly around the room, hugging the perimeter. John follows.

"How long do I have to do this?" Ronon grumbles after his fifth circuit of the room.

"As long as you think you can." Jennifer replies.

Again, Ronon doesn't answer. With an odd look of purpose on his face, he makes his way over to an armchair and drapes himself over the back of it. Leaning on his forearms, his head bent between them. "'Nother one coming," he mutters. His voice is tight.

It hits hard. John can see it when it starts, and watches as the tension spreads through his boyfriend's body. Ronon clenches his hands together so hard that his arms begin to shake. A growl starts deep in his chest, before rising up into a moan. And all John can do is watch. It's so foreign to him, seeing someone like Ronon in this state. He runs his hands gingerly over Ronon's back to try and give him a point of focus. His fingers brush the scar left over from the Wraith tracker, smoothed slightly with age. The muscles underneath are so tense that they're almost hard to the touch.

The contraction is over just as quickly as it started, but it takes Ronon another minute to fully relax. He sinks down to sit on his heels and mutters something John can't catch. He seems rattled. But, when he glances up and sees the worry on John's face, he smirks.

"'M fine. Had worse."

"You're not a very good liar, y'know." John says gently. "You gotta stop fighting this."

Ronon palms his belly with one broad hand and for a moment, seems to be ignoring John. Then he throws him a sidelong glance. "Shepperd?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut the fuck up."

John pulls back, startled. "Sorry, I--"

"Just...help me up."

Jennifer chimes in as Ronon climbs to his feet. "He's right, Ronon. Fighting the pain will only make the contractions less effective."

He glares at her.

\--

Around

And around

And around

And around the room. Ronon walks slowly and achily, but with a fierce, stubborn determination. For the first several laps, there's not much progress. But then, just as they're starting to think this might not work, Ronon shuffles to a halt. A look of distress crosses his face. His hand tightens around John's arm.

He speaks haltingly. "I dunno how to say this, but...I don't think--" he sways a little and then, before John or Dr. Keller can react, his legs give way beneath him. Jennifer manages to catch him by the shoulders and ease him to the ground, but by then, the contraction has already started. At first he grits his teeth against it; then he sucks in a deep breath and suddenly, all the fight goes out of him. He allows himself to be swept along, moaning through clenched teeth and pressing himself back against Dr. Keller. For John, it's heart-wrenching to watch, but it seems to be just what Jennifer was waiting for. She gives a few words of praise and encouragement as Ronon starts to come down.

He goes boneless at the end of it. Jennifer offers him a sip of water; he drains half the glass. "That's the worst one so far." he says. His voice is wrecked.

"But you're making progress now," Jennifer reminds him, "that's good."

Ronon takes another drink of water and sits up a little. "How much longer?"

"If I had to guess, only a couple more hours. It'll be over before you know it." she takes the now-empty glass. "Do you want to stay here, or do you think you can do some more walking?"

By way of an answer, Ronon scoots around, plants his back against the wall, and shuts his eyes. Jennifer smirks and goes to get her things.

\--

One hour into transition. Outside, the moon is coming up over the sea. Ronon has returned to his chair, only this time he's standing behind it. He's in constant motion, swaying and rolling his hips, and he's hanging onto the chair so tightly that John swears he can hear the wood creaking. His head is bowed; you can barely see his face behind the dreadlocks that have fallen over it. According to Jennifer, the baby hasn't moved down much; he's doing everything he can think of to change that.

John has a knee up on the other side of the chair. He sweeps the dreadlocks out of Ronon's face, pulls them back, and ties them with a leather cord, the way he's seen him do a hundred times. Ronon half-focuses on his face. He's deep, deep inside himself. He has that remote look, the one he had when they first met him. When he was a Runner. John knows some of what the Wraith did to Ronon then; maybe this is how he got through it.

"Hi." John says lamely. It's the only thing that comes to mind. Ronon sighs deeply.

"Hurts," he croaks, admitting it for the first time. "I don't wanna do this."

"I know," John presses a firm kiss to Ronon's forehead, then his cheekbone, "I know. Hang on a little more, okay? Just gotta tough it out a little longer--"

Suddenly Ronon lets out a harsh breath like he's been punched in the gut. He arches his back and hunches forward around his belly, his face contorting into a grimace. For a long stretch of seconds, he doesn't seem to be breathing. Then, just as suddenly, he exhales sharply and relaxes. Before John can ask, he looks down past the chair and says matter-of-factly, "Water broke." one hand unhooks from the chair and moves to his belly. Dr. Keller, meanwhile, moves in with some towels.

John smiles shakily. "You got this, Chewie. Almost there."

Ronon smiles in return, but it doesn't last long before it turns into another grimace. With a strange sort of breathy groan, he lets go of the chair and sinks down to half-kneel, half-squat, with one knee on the floor.

"Ronon?" Jennifer hovers a hand over his back. "Talk to me, what's happening?"

It takes him a couple tries to grit the words out. "I think...I think he's coming. He's...something's different." he clenches his eyes shut and rocks forward. "Son of a  _bitch_ -!"

"Okay, just breathe. Sit back so I can check..."

Reassuring him gently, Dr. Keller helps Ronon peel off his soaked pajama pants, then does a quick exam. He goes back to kneeling as soon as she's done.

"Well," she says, stripping off her gloves, "your water breaking brought him down to a good position, but he's not quite engaged."

"Meaning?" asks John.

"He's not quite ready to make his debut." she replies, and Ronon growls. "Just a little longer," Dr. Keller soothes, "you're so close, Ronon."

Ronon doesn't seem to hear. He moves his knees farther apart and palms his belly, leaning into another contraction. "I need to push."

"No." Dr. Keller's voice is suddenly firm. "Not yet, do you hear me? You're almost there, but don't push. Just breathe. Breathe through a few more contractions, then I'll check you again, okay?"

He nods mutely. Following her command, though, is easier said than done; after panting his way through just two more contractions, it's obvious that his body has other ideas. He stops in mid-breath and bears down with a deep grunt.

"Ronon." there's a warning tone to Dr. Keller's voice.

"I can't stop it," Ronon gasps. He rocks forward again. Dr. Keller briefly locks eyes with John before returning to her patient.

"Okay, but I'm going to check you again, so I need you to focus--"

He's barely able to hold still long enough for the exam. This time, however, he stays put when it's done. He's got John's hand in a vice grip; staying relaxed is taking every ounce of his concentration.

"Well, he's not quite as far down as I'd like, but if your body says it's time, it's time. You both know what to do." Dr. Keller pulls her supplies to within easy reach, then sits back on her haunches, watchful but not interfering. Ronon and John decided pretty early on that they wanted to do this by themselves. Dr. Keller has worked with them both to make that possible, although she's there to help if need be. John casts her a quick glance; she nods encouragement.

"Guess this is it. You ready?"

For a moment, Ronon resurfaces. "No," he says, "are you?"

"Hell no. Let's do this." John scoots around to help his boyfriend back up into a lunge position like before, with one knee on the floor. Then he crouches in front of him. "Go ahead and push, I gotcha."

Ronon retreats back into himself. That hard, distant look comes into his eyes again. Then, when the contraction peaks, he throws himself into pushing. He's doing this the way he does most things: just putting his head down and barreling through. John tries to coach him through it, but he knows most of his words are bouncing right off.

His whole world narrows down to this. Ronon's fighting harder than he's ever seen; growling through the contractions and rocking in between them as he works to bring their son into the world. He's afraid. It's a look John has never seen on him before, and it leaves a hard knot in the pit of his stomach. He reaches out and lays a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder, stroking his thumb back and forth over the tense muscle. Ronon's eyes flick upward to meet his, but they don't connect. He looks right through him.

Suddenly his voice takes on a note of distress. He leans forward until his head rests on John's collarbone, and presses into him. John presses back, giving him something to push against, and kisses the nearest ear. His hand moves around Ronon's shoulderblade and stays there. "'S okay. You're okay." he murmurs, half to himself and half to Ronon. The words are barely audible anyway, over Ronon's vocalizations. He glances over at Dr. Keller. She's watching closely, but doesn't seem concerned. In fact, when she sees John looking at her, she flashes a smile.

"He's doing great." she says quietly. "Starting to crown."

A cold prickle of shock winds into John's chest. Ronon lifts his head and pulls back a little, supporting his own weight but still encircled by John. One broad hand reaches down to his belly, grazes it, then moves lower. He pushes again, moaning roughly, and curls in around his belly. There's that long Satedan curse again.

"He's _right there_ , but I can't...

"Yes you can. You're doing it, he's almost here." John's voice is firm but quiet. Ronon goes still for a moment. Rallies his strength. Then, with a low cry, he bears down so hard that John feels his body shaking under his hand.

"Don't let go of it, Ronon, the head's almost out." Dr. Keller says from the sidelines.

Ronon slowly sways, breathing hard through clenched teeth while he waits for the next contraction. When it hits, he wastes no time in bearing down; his voice rises from a moan to a low scream.

"That's it, keep going." John can't keep the excitement out of his voice. He presses a kiss to Ronon's hair.

Another low scream. Ronon hunches his back and reaches down again between his legs. A light comes into his eyes.

"I think...I think his head's out," he pants. Dr. Keller scoots around to look.

"It is." she smiles at them both. "A couple more good pushes and he'll be out."

John is suddenly light-headed. He can only imagine how Ronon must feel. "God, Ronon," he breathes, "oh my god, he's almost here. You're so close."

Ronon shifts uncomfortably, his hand still between his legs as he checks for the cord. Finding it clear, he shifts until he's almost upright, shuffles back, and reaches his other hand down to join the first. His pendant swings against his chest. He grimaces. Then, when the next wave comes, he bears down into it. John watches, transfixed, as their son makes his way down and out into the world. The shoulders come; Ronon pauses for a few shaky breaths. Then he's pushing again. He lets out a yell, there's a splash of fluid and movement that John can't quite see, and--

And he's a dad now. They're parents. Holding it gingerly in his big hands, Ronon goes to lift the baby up to his chest, but he's stopped by the cord. He sits down instead, and cradles the baby in his lap. Dr. Keller moves in with one of those squeeze-bulb things that no one really knows the name of, and clears the baby's nose and mouth. He starts to cry almost immediately, loudly announcing his arrival to the city. Ronon laughs unsteadily.

"John. C'mere."

John is still sitting, thunderstruck, a few feet away, but at the sound of his name he moves forward as though pulled by a string. He looks down at the baby in Ronon's lap, angrily waving his tiny limbs as Dr. Keller towels him off, and his heart does something very strange indeed.

John kisses Ronon, gentle and a little clumsy. "Congratulations, _dad_." he whispers, trying out the word for the first time. Dr. Keller moves away to clean up her things and give them some space.

"Same to you," Ronon breathes. The baby, now tired of crying, stares up at them. They stare back, completely awestruck. John reaches out a hand and watches as the baby grabs a finger.

"What's his name?" asks John. That's another thing Ronon taught him: on Sateda, only the person who bears the child can choose its name. Slowly and carefully, Ronon takes off his _iyoric_  pendant. He loops the chain once, then slips it over the baby's tiny head. It looks enormous on him.

"Teo." he says it with absolute certainty. "Teo Dex."

It fits like a puzzle piece. John smiles as he glances at his watch. March 28th, 20:03 hours. He looks back at his son.

"Happy birthday, Teo."

 

¤¤¤

**Author's Note:**

> If you like the story, please leave a comment--I'd love to hear from you!


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